


(Death)

by Cloudburst_Ink, DianaCloudburst (Cloudburst_Ink)



Series: Like a Land of Dreams [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Magnus Bane, Deruned Alec Lightwood, First Time, Gay Sex, M/M, Mortal Magnus Bane, Power Bottom Magnus Bane, Prompt Fill, Romantic Tension, Tarot Challenge, Top Alec Lightwood, Tumblr Prompt, Virgin Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudburst_Ink/pseuds/Cloudburst_Ink, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudburst_Ink/pseuds/DianaCloudburst
Summary: Shadowhunters Tarot Challenge - Week 213 - Death~*~This fic is a continuation of(The Magician).Alec and Magnus have settled into a comfortable routine in their life on Saint Thomas. Then, Alec stumbles upon a new lead in the search to help Magnus regain his magic. Afraid of losing the delicate peace he's found on the island, Magnus makes a monumental confession about his hopes for the future.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Like a Land of Dreams [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664221
Comments: 21
Kudos: 190
Collections: Shadowhunters Tarot Challenge





	(Death)

**Author's Note:**

> Good evening! For an update on the status of my chapter fic, Speak/Hush, please see [this announcement](https://cloudburst-ink.tumblr.com/post/612624223339446272/announcement).
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Want to read this story with extra features like pretty formatting and mood music? [Check it out at Cloudburst.Ink!](https://cloudburst.ink/2020-tarot-2/) 🖤

**_September_ **

All of the windows of Magnus’s house were open when he heard the first low, distant rumble of thunder murmur across the sea. He stood just inside the threshold of his rear balcony, staring through the wire screen to the dark, choppy waves below. Twilight had come early, dragged from its slumber by lowering storm clouds that blanketed the sky and filtered all of the waning sunlight to a cool, moody grey that made Magnus feel the need to whisper anything he might have to say. It was a time to be reverent to Mother Nature, especially on an island where she could wreak such disastrous havoc.

Wind swirled into the house through the doors and windows, fluttering Magnus’s hair and sending the sheer white curtains rippling toward the interior. Magnus abandoned his quiet, contemplative post by the doorway to wander between his windows, shutting them tightly and—for once—locking them. Despite the wind and the waves and the echoes of approaching thunder, the entire world felt oddly still and silent. Mother Nature held her breath, bracing herself for the impending onslaught, and Magnus felt the need to brace himself, too. Something fast approached—a change, a rebirth. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it—a latent, crackling energy in the air, waiting to be tapped into.

Storms like this always made him antsy and dramatic. Forlorn, adrift, prone to bouts of melancholic cogitation. Magnus breathed the cold, unsettled air deep into his lungs. Nervous anticipation tightened his chest, for no other reason than the foreboding hush that descended over Saint Thomas, and the ominous streaks of rainfall barely visible on the horizon. A bolt of lightning branched through faraway clouds, blinking across the sky with uncanny quietude. The sound of it skittered by seconds later, ricocheting up over the shoreline and echoing through the house behind him.

When all of the windows were closed, Magnus returned to his spot by the open door to watch the storm roll in, shivering as the wind picked up and cut through his thin black silk Georgette shirt. He wore nothing else but lightweight black leggings, having spent the day lounging around the house taking care of chores. He had yet to speak a single word at all since the night before, which was unusual these days—he and Alec spent so much time together that Magnus had grown accustomed to the company. But Alec worked late this evening, and would probably only just be returning to his own place from work to shower and eat. Magnus would see him tomorrow.

Magnus’s heart wobbled unsteadily in his chest at the thought of the ex-Shadowhunter. Alec had changed so much in the past few months—he was a completely different man from the haunted, homesick boy Magnus had met on the moonlit beach. Alec was strong, and dedicated, and patient, and determined, and  _ hopeful _ . He was the most beautiful person Magnus had ever met. Magnus’s heart stuttered again.

He knew what he was feeling. He knew what it meant. It was a sensation he had grown all too familiar with over his centuries—and one he had mostly given up on pursuing. But the past few weeks had only cemented the quiet, secret knowledge that Magnus carried in his heart: he was in love.

As if in agreement, the sky rumbled again—closer, and louder. The murky grey curtain of distant rainfall edged its way nearer over the turbulent sea, heavy clouds darkening.

Magnus felt the same way around Alec as he did staring into the face of the gathering storm outside. Unsettled, restless, apprehensive. Some ancient, anxious primordial part of his brain feared that if he said or did the wrong thing, his entire life might be ruined. But he was also excited. Thrilled.  _ Wired _ .

Magnus always did have a habit of falling too deeply too quickly. Alec was only just getting settled on the island—Magnus didn't want to ruin that newfound comfort.

Magnus knew that Alec reciprocated his feelings, at least on the surface. Alec was with him  _ all the time _ , and they spent a very exorbitant amount of that time just kissing—reclining on the beach, or in the shade of Magnus’s lanai—and had taken to referring to each other as boyfriends, which always sent Alec into loveliest blush. But they hadn’t said  _ those _ words yet, or explored much of their physical relationship beyond closely pressed bodies and shy, wandering hands, cooling off when things got too heated too quickly.

Magnus knew he was just getting ahead of himself. He might not have his immortality anymore, but he still had his patience. He would wait for Alec as long as it took.

Another flash of white-hot lightning forked through the shadowed sky, this time almost directly over the shoreline. The thunder followed directly after, no longer a rumbling growl but a sudden crash. With that, the clouds finally burst. The nebulous streaks of distant rainfall swept over the beach in a fierce curtain of water, engulfing Magnus’s hilltop villa in a violent cacophony of pelting, hammering droplets. Energy crackled over the landscape, buzzing with the sudden release of Nature’s power. Rain battered the screen door, peppering Magnus’s toes in icy flecks of water and leaving shining wet dapples on the hardwood.

If Alec were there, he would frown at Magnus and tell him he was ruining the floor. He would complain about how he would inevitably be the one to repair it. But then he would stand by Magnus’s side all the same, holding him tightly and burying his face in Magnus’s hair to hide his smile as they soaked in the storm winds together.

Magnus missed his magic in moments like these. He missed the raw power that hummed under his skin, snapping and fizzing in response to Mother Nature’s ebbs and flows. He missed feeling like hurricanes were kindred spirits, and lightning just another form of the same magic that hung heavy like static in the air around him.

Now he was just another person—albeit with a very strange set of eyes that only some people could see. Now he was mortal, and powerless, and he would one day grow old, aging with the people around him instead of lurking, frozen, like the ageless landscape. But Magnus found, much to his surprise, that the idea of growing old no longer held the same dread and fear and foreboding that it once did.

Perhaps all he needed was someone worth growing old with.

Magnus startled at the sudden clatter of someone rapping frantically on his front door. His heart leapt to his throat, a rush of adrenaline jolting him out of his musings. He stared across the room toward the entranceway, wondering if it had just been the storm. But the knocking came again, louder this time, and a tall, looming shadow darkened the rippled glass window at the center of the heavy cedar frame.

_ Alec?! _

Magnus scrambled across the living room, bare feet tracking scattered smudges of rainwater behind him. He hastily unlatched the deadbolt and yanked the door open.

Alec stood before him, emerging from the downpour like Boreas himself, black hair storm-swept and pinned against his pale, flawless face in wild, wet curls by rivulets of cascading water. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose grey sweatpants that were so soaked through that they had darkened by several shades and clung to Alec’s body in eye-catching ways. Alec’s blue eyes were wide and excited, caught in the same frenzied chaos as the winds, droplets of rain streaming over his shoulders and catching in sparkling clusters on the coarse hair of his chest.

Magnus froze, his eyes drinking in the divine sight before him. Alec was panting, his chest rising and falling and shimmering with rain, as if he had run the whole way up the hill. His broad, muscled shoulders and chiseled abs flexed when he leaned on the door frame, catching his breath.

“Magnus,” he breathed.

That broke the spell. Magnus blinked, then shook away the shocked, baffled amazement that clouded his mind and stumbled backwards out of the way.

“Alexander!” he gasped. “What are you  _ doing _ ? Get in here!”

Alec grinned as he shuffled into the house, still heaving for breath. “Magnus, I know what to do,” he wheezed. “I thought of something.” His words were almost lost under the onslaught of the rain.

Magnus rolled his eyes. He hurried to the hall closet to fetch a dry towel, then returned and thrust it in Alec's direction. A sudden wind picked up from the sliding glass doors in the back of the room—which still sat open—and trails of rigid goosebumps took form across Alec’s bare skin. Magnus dumped the towel in Alec’s hands and darted back to them, sliding them shut. With the entire house finally sealed up, a strange hush fell over the house, all the chaos and tumult of the storm warded from the tranquil space.

“Honestly,” Magnus fretted. “What could possibly be so important that you risk life and limb dashing up here in your bare feet? Storms can be  _ dangerous _ here, Alexander. And you don’t have  _ iratzes _ anymore to patch you up.”

“I know how to get your magic back,” Alec blurted. He fidgeted with the now damp towel, shifting it between his hands as if he didn’t know what to do with it. He was still dripping wet, too focused on Magnus to bother with his own disheveled state.

Not that Magnus was complaining. Alec was beautiful like this, glistening and winded. With the outside world blocked out and muffled, the room felt suddenly very intimate. Magnus could feel the heated humidity rolling off Alec's body in waves.

Magnus’s eyes went wide. His breath caught in his throat. That was not what he had expected.

He stepped slowly toward Alec and let his gaze fall to the towel held uselessly in the nephilim’s hands, carefully schooling his expression. He wondered if Alec could hear his heart hammering in his chest, or if it was drowned out in the muted din of the thunder.

“And how is that?” Magnus asked neutrally. He lifted the towel from Alec’s hands, standing on his toes to wrap it gingerly around his tall shoulders.

“Jocelyn Fairchild,” Alec explained breathlessly. “I only met her once, right after Jace and Clary woke her up—it was only days before my trial, so I was a little distracted. But she had this book—”

“The Book of the White,” Magnus supplied quietly.

“Yeah!” Alec exclaimed. “You know it?”

“I thought it was lost,” Magnus answered. “Last I heard, Jocelyn Fairchild was a ghost. No one had heard from her in almost twenty years.”

Alec shook his head. “You’ve been isolated from the Downworld, Magnus. Her daughter showed up at the Institute two months before my deruning, claiming her mother had been kidnapped by  _ Valentine _ of all people. Turns out she was right. We found the Book of the White at the Wayland manor, where Valentine had been hiding. It’s in the possession of the New York Institute now, which is being run by my  _ parabatai _ .” Alec stumbled briefly over the word. “I could contact him. There’s bound to be  _ something _ in that damned book that you can use.”

“I know there is,” Magnus agreed softly. His hands had frozen on the corners of the towel, resting over Alec’s pecs. He could feel Alec’s heartbeat thrumming erratically, excitedly. Magnus’s hands trembled as he stared down at them.

“That’s it then,” Alec breathed, his voice quiet with awe. “You can get your magic back.”

Magnus released his grip on the towel and spun to face the back door. He strode forward and stopped, staring through the sliding glass panes at the raging storm outside. Tears burned the back of his eyes. His throat constricted painfully. He massaged the palm of one hand restlessly as he stared out at the churning ocean.

He wasn't ready for this part of his life to be over.

“Magnus?” Alec asked gently. Soft footsteps padded across the room, until Magnus could feel the distracting heat of Alec’s body behind him. “Magnus, what’s wrong?” In the reflection on the glass, Magnus could just barely discern Alec lifting his arm to embrace him, then hesitating and dropping it. “I thought you’d be happy. You can be immortal again.”

Magnus hugged himself. The painful harshness of the realization stung in his chest. Perhaps, it was not  _ this _ chapter of Magnus's life that needed ending.

“I don’t want to be immortal,” Magnus whispered. His voice cracked, betraying the fragile terror in his admission. His eyes traced the curve of Alec’s bicep in the glass, venturing upward to his neck, the sharp cut of his jaw, and his piercing, clear eyes, which always seemed to channel the oscillating cerulean moods of the Caribbean Sea outside.

Magnus missed his magic dearly. He missed the power, the freedom. He missed the easy peace that came with knowing he had all the time in the world.

He did not miss the loneliness. He did not miss the heartbreaking certainty that everyone in his life would move on without him, passing through his endless existence only fleetingly, like silent ships in the night. He was terrified of the idea that one day he might blink, and wake up, and Alexander Lightwood would be decades dead, and Magnus would still be exactly the same. Alone.

“But,” Alec choked out. “Your magic—you said it was part of you. You said… you felt empty without it. You’ll grow old.”

This was not the way that Magnus had wanted to have this conversation. He had always imagined it months from now, maybe even years, long after even Alec had given up the search. 

Magnus didn’t even have the heart to admit that he had already given it up himself weeks before. He had known what he wanted longer than he cared to admit to himself.

Perhaps whichever storm gods reigned over this tempest had heard his earlier silent musings and determined to give him a stern, guiding push in the right direction.

“Maybe I’ve found something else to fill that void,” Magnus murmured. “Some _ one _ .” He finally turned to face Alec, and looked up to meet his gaze. Magnus knew his own golden cat eyes were likely red-rimmed and shining from the effort of holding back the swell of emotions that threatened to crumble the dam between himself and the world. “Maybe I want to grow old with him,” he added quietly. “Is that so bad?”

Alec’s expression was dumbfounded. “Me?” he asked hesitantly, after a few long seconds of nothing but the thrum of raindrops on glass.

Magnus sniffed, one frustrated tear finally escaping. “Gods, Alec, you’re so dense sometimes. Of  _ course _ , you!” He shoved Alec slightly, but the ex-Shadowhunter barely budged. He was rooted to the spot, staring down at Magnus with a bewildered mixture of awe and shock. Shining beads of water still dripped from his hair, racing down his body and disappearing into the sagging line of his sweatpants, which now revealed a sculpted V of muscle that drew Magnus’s eyes enticingly toward the center.

Magnus was experiencing way too many conflicting emotions. He had no idea what to do with himself. He tried to turn and walk away, but Alec caught his arm.

“I love you,” Alec said plainly, as if Magnus hadn’t spent the last few weeks agonizing over how to confess that very same thing, terrified that Alec would not feel the same way. “Magnus, I’ll love you no matter what. Even if you do get your magic back. Even if you’re immortal. I’ll love you just the same.” He tugged Magnus in closer, cupping Magnus’s cheeks with his warm hands, fingers brushing over his jaw.

“I love you too,” Magnus replied. Then, after a moment of careful consideration, “This is my choice.”

“Magnus,” Alec breathed. Any further pursuit of that thought was cut short by Alec brushing his lips against Magnus’s, still clasping the ex-warlock’s face between his hands.

All of the bottled, swirling emotions that had been pent up inside of Magnus released at once. His knees went weak. He leaned into Alec’s body, intensely aware of the hard curves of Alec’s muscles against him, the thin, soaking wet fabric of his pants. Magnus leaned into the kiss desperately, until the chill from the wet fabric seeped through his own leggings.

“Alec, you’re freezing!” Magnus gasped, flinching backwards. “Take those off. I’ll put them in the dryer.” He motioned vaguely toward Alec’s sopping wet sweatpants.

Alec crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow. “Right here?”

Magnus blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—I mean, I know you’re—I just meant—” Magnus was silenced by a gentle finger over his lips, and the intoxicating nearness of Alec crowding his space.

Alec licked his lips anxiously. “Maybe… maybe  _ you _ could take them off of me?” he suggested, his voice low and gravelly.

Magnus took a long moment to process what he heard, to make sure he understood Alec’s words correctly. He had imagined this, so many times and in so many ways. In the safety of his morning showers, in the quiet silence of his bedroom at night. But a careful, skeptical part of his mind had always doubted—despite their many long makeout sessions and constant hovering around each other—that Alec really wanted this.

Now Alec stood before him, awash in the cool, muted light of the storm that cast him in a surreal glow, like a marble statue,  _ asking Magnus to undress him _ . The droplets that raced down the glass doors cast uneven, quivering shadows that skimmed down the smooth surface of Alec’s skin.

Magnus closed the small space between them and traced his fingertips reverently across the waistband of Alec’s pants. Alec’s abs tensed at the contact, his breaths staggering.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath these, are you?” Magnus asked huskily.

Alec shook his head. “I was in kind of a hurry to get here—I was in the shower when I remembered about the book,” he admitted, his voice barely a quiet whisper beneath the steady beat of rain against the glass beside them. "I guess there wasn't really any need to rush."

“I think I’d like you to rush from the shower more often,” Magnus mused. He tugged on the drawstring, watching the hasty knot Alec had tied there come undone beneath his fingers. When he looked back up, a heated blush had crept to Alec’s cheeks.

Alec cleared his throat lightly. “That could be arranged,” he managed. His eyes flickered between Magnus’s lips and the bare swathe of his chest, just visible above the low-cut collar of his shirt.

“Perhaps you should even the playing field first,” Magnus suggested. He toyed with the fabric by his collar bone.

Alec bit his lip and nodded. His hands, rough with calluses, wandered beneath Magnus’s shirt and dragged over the sensitive skin across his hip bone. Magnus shuddered. When Alec lifted the delicate fabric upward, gathering it gingerly between his fingers, Magnus raised his arms, catching his breath every time Alec’s knuckle brushed tantalizingly against his ribs.

Alec tossed the shirt aside, somewhere behind Magnus. Magnus did not look to see where it landed. He realized, a bit belatedly, that the shape of his half-hard cock was now painfully visible beneath his leggings without the billowy shirt to hide it.

It wasn’t the first time one or both of them had ended up hard in each other's presence. It was a natural and recurring result of their increasing physical intimacy as of late. It  _ was _ , however, the first time that Alec seemed inclined to do something about it.

Alec dragged his fingertips over the waistband of Magnus's leggings, much like Magnus had done to him only moments before. Had it really only been so short a time? Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

"These, too," Alec commanded gently. Magnus nodded, his hips swaying forward into Alec's touch.

"Yes," he said, "please."

But Alec's hands abandoned their post by Magnus's waistband, instead drifting lower, fingertips brushing lightly over the thin fabric that separated their skin. Alec’s touch ghosted over the underside of Magnus’s cock through the fabric. Magnus’s hips bucked, his eyes falling closed as he released something akin to a whimper, heat flooding his face at the unseemly sound that escaped him.

When Magnus opened his eyes, Alec’s expression was unnecessarily pleased.

Magnus pouted, then gripped the waistband of Alec’s sweatpants and slid them over the curve of his ass, dropping them to the floor with a wet, airy thud. Alec paused, giving Magnus a chance to absorb the sight of him.

His cock was still soft—which Magnus could not begrudge him, having felt the frigid temperature of his soaked pants. But his muscles flexed and contracted under Magnus’s scrutiny, tense with nervous excitement. Alec held his breath and self-consciously bit his lip.

“Alexander,” Magnus managed. Something in his brain wasn’t completely computing—he finally had Alec  _ naked _ , and he didn’t know what else to do except disrobe himself, as quickly as possible. “Alexander, please,” he begged. He guided Alec’s hands back to the waistband of his own pants, and Alec quickly shoved them down and out of the way.

By the time they made it to the sofa, the warm air was settling around them, and both of them were gasping into each other’s mouths, rubbing together like horny teenagers. Magnus knelt in Alec’s lap, his knees planted on either side of the nephilim’s hips. He could feel the thick weight of Alec’s cock resting in the cleft of his ass, and he used his advantageous position to slide up and down against it, prompting Alec to moan into their kiss.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Magnus pulled back and leaned over to the end table, yanking the drawer open to retrieve a new, unopened bottle of lube and a condom.

“How long have those been there?” Alec smirked.

“Since the day after you kissed me,” Magnus admitted sheepishly. "There's some in almost every room."

Alec grinned.

Magnus started off preparing himself. Alec’s eyes slid over his body the whole time, absorbed in every move Magnus made, every time Magnus’s eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“May I?” he eventually asked, his index finger skimming lightly between Magnus’s cheeks.

“Yes,” Magnus breathed. He guided Alec’s hand to start with, then returned to enjoying the ride as the nephilim caught on massaged gently inside of him. “Yes, there,” he repeated, sinking onto Alec’s fingers.

Alec watched him like he was something holy, lips parted and pupils engulfing the stormy blue of his eyes.

The thrill and excitement of it all had Magnus edging closer to coming long before he normally would. He reached down and squeezed Alec’s wrist. “I want to ride you,” he said.

“Please,” Alec begged, his hand retreating to Magnus’s hips. He took his own cock in hand, whining quietly when he rubbed the head against Magnus’s empty hole. When Magnus shoved the condom into Alec's hands, Alec made quick work of tearing it open. He slid it over himself with only cursory assistance from Magnus, both of them grinning between their kisses at Alec's fumbling.

Magnus sank down, and the tip pressed into him, stretching him open and filling him up. He moaned, burying his face in Alec’s neck as he pushed himself lower and lower. He could feel Alec’s cock splitting him open, how it rubbed up against parts of him that hadn’t been touched in far too long. He mewled Alec’s name, struggling to keep his composure, his fingernails digging into Alec’s shoulder. Finally, he was fully seated in Alec’s lap.

“Fuck, Magnus,” Alec panted. Every part of him felt tense and hard beneath Magnus. Magnus could not bring himself to respond, only to relax further onto Alec’s body, moaning when the head of Alec’s cock brushed against places so deep that he had almost forgotten they existed. He shifted his weight ever so slightly, whimpering when he felt an entirely new wave of pleasure and pressure as Alec shifted inside of him. Magnus's breath came in unsteady rasps. He paused in place for a moment as he adjusted to the impressive length and girth of Alec within him.

“You ok?” Alec asked, his own voice trembling with the effort of forming any words at all. His hands gripped Magnus’s thighs. When his thumb brushed over the inside of Magnus’s spread legs, torturously close to his aching cock, Magnus's hips jerked in response.

“Yeah.” Magnus swallowed the dryness in his throat. “You’re just really deep. It’s—it’s a lot,” Magnus managed. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Alec’s lips, slotting their bodies together. When he pulled back, he gave his hips an experimental roll and bit back a moan. “Alec,” he begged.

Alec followed his lead, thrusting slowly upward, his cock dragging against Magnus’s prostate. He groaned when Magnus picked up the pace, his rhythm faltering.

Tension coiled and writhed in Magnus’s core, heating up and curling in on itself as he moved. He chased after it, pleasure building up inside of him.

He was almost there, so close, when suddenly Alec tensed. The arm around Magnus’s back tightened and held him in place as Alec’s hips quivered, thrusting deep into him. Magnus gasped at the roughness of it, the change in rhythm throwing him off-kilter. But then Alec’s other hand was wrapping around Magnus’s cock, thumbing over his slit, and Magnus was thrusting into the nephilim’s grip as he spilled between them, clenching and shivering. Alec pleaded his name, and Magnus responded with gentle hushes and soft kisses, somehow outwardly functioning even though his own brain felt like kneaded, doughy mush. Warm satisfaction buzzed up from inside his ribcage.

“Mmm, Alexander,” he purred, resting his forehead against Alec’s as the last waves of pleasure gradually subsided. He rested his weight on Alec’s lap, not quite ready to lose the sensation of Alec’s cock filling him up.

"You're so gorgeous," Magnus mumbled tiredly into the space between them. He grinned when Alec blushed, and drew him in for another languid, satisfied kiss.

One thing Magnus  _ surely _ missed about having magic was the easy, instant post-sex cleanup. Before, all it took was a snap of his fingers and both he and Alec would be warm and dry, snuggled up together on the sofa under a pile of blankets. Instead, he pulled himself reluctantly off of Alec—who hissed almost as much as he did at the sensation—and trudged to the bathroom for a quick manual cleanup with Alec close at heel.

One  _ nice _ thing about mundane post-sex cleanup, Magnus realized, was that he got to fumble around with Alec, naked, in the dark. Neither of them had bothered to turn any lights on, and the sun had set while they were distracted with each other’s bodies. Magnus’s eyes adjusted quickly, and he giggled giddily while he guided Alec to his bedroom, and the pile of warm blankets that awaited them there.

~*~

Magnus did not awaken until long after the sun had peeked over the Caribbean horizon, bathing the white-sand beaches in warm light. The storm had passed overnight, but Alec remained in his bed, soft blue eyes blinking sleepily back at Magnus from across the silky red sheets. Wordlessly, Magnus scooted in and closed the distance between them. Alec hummed happily, raising up his arm so Magnus could burrow into him. They were still naked, sharing body heat under the blankets, wrapped around each other.

“Good morning,” Magnus whispered. The quiet seemed too sacred and perfect to break.

“Good morning,” Alec whispered back. His breath ruffled Magnus’s already mussed up hair. Magnus grinned and squeezed him, drunk on the pleasure of waking up beside him.

“You know,” Magnus finally murmured, tracing a light finger over the curve of Alec’s lips. “I don’t think anyone’s ever actually wanted to grow old with me before.”

Alec’s smile was soft and sweet, and just a little bit shy despite the events of the night before and their current state of lazy, satisfied undress. “Me neither,” he said, his voice still low and hoarse from sleep. He snuggled more tightly against Magnus.

Magnus grinned and let himself be buried in Alec’s body, his weight, his scent. He felt like home.


End file.
